“Something your marriage will erase.”
A brutal truth that burned in her gut. And then what? Given his harsh manner, would he allow her to stay?Allow?Fury rushed through her that the option to remain in her home could be usurped. As quick, she realized the foolishness of her thought. A powerful lord wouldn’t send his wife away, but keep her to give him an heir.
She refused to think of the intimacy she must endure until she bore him a son. Wouldone be enough?
During her first marriage, she’d been blessed by her husband’s gentle manner, but she dreaded being forced into another man’s bed.
“My lady, you look unwell.”
At the concern in her friend’s voice, she shook her head. “I am tired. It has been a long day.” One that wasfar from over.
“Though harsh,” Pieres said, “Lord Balfour seems reasonable.”
She gave a wry smile. “I must have missedthat quality.”
Humor touched his gaze. “Fora man of war.”
At the keep, Gwendolyn halted. “I thank you for your gracious council. I dinna know what I would do without you.”
He gave a slow nod. “I am always here for you. I regret that circumstance has led to this end, my lady, but I believe once the earl comes to know you, he will discover he is afortunate man.”
She arched a doubtful brow. “With his reputation, and after meeting him, I am not fool enough to convince myself of such. Lord Balfour sees naught but the next battle, what weapons will serve him best, not a wife’s place, with the exception of a means to procure a successor.”
“War is a heartless mistress and taints many a warrior’s heart. The way he aided the mare this day, I believe, however deeply hidden, there is a good man inside.”
Mayhap Pieres was right. In the stable, Lord Balfour hadn’t touched her with intent to harm, but to move her to a safer location near Kellan.
Gwendolyn calmed a degree. She was a strong woman. The fact that the man’s presence left her on edge couldbe dealt with.
After speaking to the servants to ensure food was prepared, she informed a maid to ready two chambers for Lord Balfour’s men. Needing a reprieve before facing her betrothed during in the upcoming meal, Gwendolyn exited the keep.
Wind ripe with the scent of sea caressed her face as she crossed the bailey. She yearned to walk along the beach to mull the upcoming decisions she must make. The brief time with Sir Pieres on the rock-strewn sand this morning had been a luxury. With the unrest in the Highlands, neither was she foolish enough to return to the shore without a guard.
She despised the thought that in the future her betrothed would demand she receive his approval before she left the castle. Gwendolyn paused. Mayhap, as earlier, she was being too harsh. They’d met but once, and then in a hectic situation.
In truth, what worried her most was that she had no idea of Lord Balfour’s expectations. When she’d married Luke, she’d known him for years. Though they had not been in love, he was a kind man. Now, she did noteven have that.
The sound of the church bell echoed throughout the castle, announcing None.
Gwendolyn drew a deep breath to calm her nerves. For the safety of her people and castle, she must acquiesce to the marriage. Still, she found herself restless.
What was it about Lord Balfour that unsettled her, a fact that made little sense? Never before had anyone affected her so. Many times over the years she’d met with influential nobles and even kings. Neither was she ignorant of how to run the castle, innocent of the demands of marriage, or unused to dealing with powerful men.
Gwendolyn stopped, surprised. Lost in thought, she’d walked to the chapel. The scent of frankincense and myrrh filled the air as she stepped inside. She pushed the door closed, and a stifling gloomenveloped her.
Her eyes adjusted to the muted light. Overhead, swaths of stained glass of royal blue, ivory, and gold, crafting the image of the Virgin Mary glowed within the candlelight. Whirls of soft color spilled into the holy chamber to blend with the tapers seated within a gold candleholder upon the altar, ensnaring her within their somber mix.
Memories rolled through Gwendolyn of standing within these sacred walls sobbing at her father’s side after the loss of her mother. Of how, years later, within this chapel, she’d pledged herself to a man she did not love. And how but months before, where she’d wept after learning of her father’s tragic death.
With each event, she’d sought solace in the chapel. Yet with each desperate plea for succor, any sense of hopehad evaded her.
She swallowed hard, glanced toward the baskets in the corner near the statue of Jesus, filled with bottles of oil, rosemary, and sage, which she’d placed there earlier. The sweet, succulent aromasfrom her youth.
To her right stood a statue of Jesus, along with a chalice and numerous other holy items the priest used during Mass. Gwendolyn focused on the crucifix mounted on the wall. Her throat tightened, and she pressed her hand to anearby column.
Why had she come inside? Well she knew ’twas a mistake to think she’d find any comfort here; ’twas only for those who believed. After Luke’s death, she’d assure herself that never again would she belong to any man. Yet here she stood days away from losing even that.
She glared at the hand-carved platform where soon she again would be forced to pledge her troth. Bedamned King Robert for shoving the Highlands into war, an act that had forced Comyn’s hand and severed any hope that she could live out herdays in peace.
